Silence
by astraplain
Summary: Ray ponders silence.


:Gorgeous Carat belongs to You Higuri:

Ray closed his pocket watch with a soft click, slipping it back into his pocket. With the quiet ticking muffled, the room fell into silence again, just the way Ray preferred it.

He was used to silence; he enjoyed it. It was safe, he supposed, or at least it gave the illusion of safety. He learned that more than a decade ago, living wild on the streets of Morocco. The value of silence was the first lesson Azura taught him, and it was the one he learned the best.

It served Ray well there, letting him slip, unnoticed, among the market stalls and into houses of the wealthy where he stole food and trinkets. The praise he earned from Azura was as delicious as any bits of bread or fruit he acquired.

It was later, when he was an ocean away from Azura, that he discovered another benefit of silence. He hated the idle chatter of Parisian society and loathed their wasteful ways. The only thing that interested him was their endless arrays of sparkling gems. They reminded him of the sparkling crystals hidden in desert sands and made him think of Azura.

In some ways, silence was even more valuable in Paris, where it was such a rare commodity. It was on a dark night, in silence, that Noir was born. Ray had returned from a party where he'd spent the night chased by prying eyes and hushed whispers. He'd been angry and homesick and so very lonely. Wrapping himself up in a old black cape that had been left in his wardrobe, he'd slipped out into the night. He hadn't set a destination, but he wasn't surprised when he ended up outside the very mansion where he'd been stared and whispered about just a few hours before.

The lady of the house had been wearing a pear-cut emerald far too lovely for her sallow complexion. It would be a disservice to such a fine jewel to leave it in her possession, he decided. An hour later he was home with the jewel in his pocket and his mood considerably lighter.

By week's end, he'd acquired a top hat. It took a bit longer to procure the perfect cane. But the whip √ that was an old friend, a gift from an old friend. It was the one extravagance Azura had allowed him, with the provision that Ray learn how to use it. Their lessons were cut short when Azura was injured and Ray was reclaimed by relatives and taken to Paris, but Ray had continued to practice. He wasn't up to Azura's skill, but he was learning, and even had a few tricks of his own.

Ray paused his shuffling of papers for a moment and placed a hand on the whip where it lay coiled at his side. The familiar texture was comforting and he returned to his musings with a smile. He could use a pistol and a knife with deadly accuracy, but there was something much more satisfying about the soft whistle-crack of a whip and the sudden resistance of a strike. Yes, Ray could appreciate that so much more than the loud retort of a pistol or the dull thud of a knife.

Besides, there was more control when using a whip, and Ray was a man who appreciated control as much as he savored silence.

Thankfully, most of those in his household understood his preference for silence - especially Laila, who had some practice obtaining things from market stalls in her youth just like Ray. Of course, she did forget herself on occasion, especially since Florian arrived.

If there was one person in the house who did not embrace silence, it was Ray's fair-haired companion. Oddly, the quiet seemed to make Florian nervous rather than offer him comfort. Ray had learned soon after Florian's arrival that there would be no more meals spent in silence, no more quiet evenings of reflection.

While the silence was comfortable to Ray, it made Florian agitated, until he couldn't stop himself from chattering. Ray had eventually come to suspect that it was a product of Florian spending his childhood being chided into silence so as not to disturb his ailing father. Even after the man had died, Florian's mother couldn't abide noise. It was only later, when most of the house was empty and closed off, that she wanted Florian's voice to cover the echoing emptiness of their home.

Ray had tried to break Florian of the habit but the blond didn't seem able to adapt. In fact, it was only recently that Ray had found the solution to the situation.

He checked his pocket watch again, marking that it had been precisely 58 minutes. Close enough, he decided, and closed up his work for the day. He straightened his desk carefully, knowing that Florian would redo it if not done neatly enough. When he was content, he pushed away from the desk and stood up, taking a moment to stretch. He pushed the chair into place and straightened his jacket.

Finally, he took the seven steps necessary to reach the pair of armchairs near the fireplace. He stopped beside the one on the right, Florian's preferred location, and smiled down at the blond. Amethyst eyes blinked up at him and Florian straightened a bit, hopeful.

Ray rested his hand on Florian's head for a moment before sliding it down to release the gag. The honey-gold-colored leather complemented Florian's skin tone nicely and it was thin and supple enough not to chafe.

"You did well," Ray told him with a smile as he leaned down for a kiss. Florian turned his head aside, annoyed.

"Untie me first. You said I didn't have to be tied up any more."

"But I like tying you up," Ray protested with a laugh. He quickly undid the loose restraints. Florian could have pulled himself free but he hadn't and tonight he'd be rewarded for that - but only if he didn't say something to annoy Ray in the meantime.

Florian made a "hrff" of irritation, but lifted his face up to be kissed.

"Can I at least ask what we're having for dinner? I'm starving?"

Ray laughed and pulled Florian to his feet. He pressed the gag against his mouth, muffling anything else Florian might say. The soft gold of the leather caught the afternoon light and Ray smiled as he leaned in for a kiss. In this case, silence really was golden.

:end:


End file.
